


The Last Piece of the Puzzle

by AngelOfTheMoor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Supernatural Reverse Big Bang Challenge, Supernatural Reverse Big Bang Challenge 2014, Vignettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 11:10:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 14,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3132320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelOfTheMoor/pseuds/AngelOfTheMoor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Winchester meets Gadreel Novak on a blind date. Despite his reluctance, Sam grows very interested in this odd but endearing man. Over a year, their relationship gradually develops. The most meaningful moments are the little ones. Each one is necessary; each one strengthens the bond, weaving an enduring love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. T Minus 2 Hours 47 Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: _Supernatural_ doesn't belong to me.
> 
> This fic was written for the SPN Reverse Bang. First, thanks to [Nonexistenz](http://nonexistenz.tumblr.com/), whose art inspired this fic. She was a joy to work with, and she has created a ton of amazing art, all of which is interspersed throughout the story. In the end notes, you will find a copy of her original submission, which inspired this fic. She was kind enough to cut those five pieces into individual ones then create additional art for the other vignettes that comprise the fic. Her art gave me the idea for the fic's structure, and she's strengthened the presence of the puzzle piece theme with the additional art. You can find her art masterpost [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3139517).
> 
> Thanks as well to [consultingcas](http://consultingcas.tumblr.com/), my beta. Her advice has helped me make this a stronger fic.
> 
> And finally, thanks to the mods of the community for all their hard work.

Dean frantically inventories supplies in the kitchen. It would be just like him to be missing a key ingredient for Sam and Gadreel’s one-year anniversary dinner. They will be here before he knows it, and he doesn’t even have one thing ready.

Cas tiptoes to the entrance of the kitchen, pausing there when he hears the racket Dean’s making. Dean can be a formidable force when he’s taken over the kitchen, and Cas never fails to remind (and tease) him about the matter.

“When are Sam and Gadreel due to arrive?” he asks as he crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the doorjamb.

Dean glances at his watch and stifles a groan. “In a couple of hours.”

“Remind me again why they wish to spend their anniversary here? Do they not desire some time alone with each other?”

Dean chuckles. “They see each other at home all the time, Cas.”

Cas frowns. “Yes, but an anniversary is special.” A wicked glint enters his eye. “We’ve had some _delicious_ anniversary nights, have we not?”

Dean smiles at the memories. Cas and he have been married for two years, and they were together for three before that. They’ve celebrated four anniversaries, all of which were filled with some of the hottest sex of Dean’s life. He almost gets hard just thinking about it.

Dean suddenly needs to take a piss. He drops the pie tin he’s holding and shuffles toward the doorway, stopping to peck his husband on the lips. “But that was at night, babe,” Dean pronounces, their lips still close enough to brush as he speaks. He waggles his eyebrows. “They’ll have plenty of time after supper.”

“Hmm. If you say so.” Dean pins Cas against the wall and kisses him harder before taking a step back. Cas groans in protest. “You are such a tease.”

Dean smirks. “You know you love it.”

Cas flashes one of those patented almost-grins. “I do.” He licks his lips then adds, “But you still haven’t told me why they would want to eat here for their anniversary.”

“’Cause we’re the ones who set them up, remember?”

Dean recalls his first meeting with Gadreel.


	2. T Minus 1 Year 1 Day 3 Hours 21 Minutes

“So wait,” Dean said as Cas pressed the button for the elevator. “You want to set up this Gadreel with Sam? On a date?”

The elevator dinged, and Dean and Cas stepped inside.

“It’s a double date, Dean,” Cas drawled. “We shall be with them.”

“How does that make it any better?”

Cas sighed. “Gadreel does not know anyone here, all right? Not a soul. I think he should—what do you say—get out? He was always kind to me, and I would like to return the favor. Plus, I don’t want him to end up like Balthazar.”

Cousins Castiel and Gadreel Novak had grown up in the same evangelical cult. Dean didn’t know any particulars about them, but he imagined they were like the Westboro Baptist Church, all family and shit like that. And like all good religious nutjobs, they were the biggest homophobes on the planet. They’d kicked Castiel to the curb when he’d come out of the closet. Tossed him out like he was trash, with no resources.

If Dean hadn’t found Cas shivering and helpless on the sidewalk by his apartment building, numb with cold on a winter night . . .

Dean shuddered to think of what could’ve been the result. Finding Cas had been the best thing that’d ever happened to him.

Two years later, one of Cas’s cousins, Balthazar, had arrived in town. The religious wackos had thrown him out because he was bisexual, and even though Cas had tried to help him acclimate, he’d succumbed to despair and shot himself in the head.

And now this Gadreel . . . he’d come out of the closet, too. And yeah, Dean wanted to help the poor guy. But—“I’ve never even met him. For all I know, setting him up with Sam might be the worst idea in the history of ever.”

The elevator reached the sixth floor, and Dean and Cas strode down a dingy green-carpeted hallway. At the moment, Gadreel worked at a Gas ’n Sip, and as a result, his digs were kind of shitty.

“You’re meeting him now,” Cas snipped. Smart ass.

Cas rapped on the door, and it swung open to reveal a tall man. Not many people were taller than Dean. Of course Sam was, the gigantic freak. But this guy—yeah, he was definitely taller. Dean felt like pre-Captain America Steve Rogers next to him.

Gadreel opened the door wider and gestured at a living room that contained a raggedy brown couch and a scratched-up wooden coffee table. “Come in.” He sounded odd, formal and stilted. Kinda like Cas when Dean had first met him except with less personality.

Gadreel scrutinized Dean, and he shifted uncomfortably under the gaze. Gadreel’s eyes were blue, though not the gorgeous dark shade of Cas’s. He swept a hand through his brown hair and proclaimed, “Castiel, this is your husband?” Cas nodded and grasped Dean’s hand. Gadreel’s lips curled up in slight disgust as he took in Dean’s faded jeans and brown leather jacket. No doubt he still had grease stains underneath his fingernails, too. Gadreel scowled at him. “I am rather underwhelmed.”

He made a face so reminiscent of Sam that Dean drew back an inch, stunned.

That was Sam’s bitch face on another man.

Son of a bitch.

Dean chortled. Cas and Gadreel stared at him in confusion, but Dean couldn’t stop.

This dude was going to be _perfect_ for his brother.


	3. T Minus 364 Days 21 Hours 17 Minutes

Sam flipped down the sun visor and surveyed himself in the mirror. He ran a hand through his hair, attempting to tame the ever-poofy strands, but to no avail. Ah, well. Why should he care about impressing whoever this Gadreel was, anyway? The last blind date Dean had set him up on had been a disaster, and afterward he’d made Dean swear to never set him up again. Yet sap that he was, he’d agreed to another one.

“Just be nice to the guy for one night,” Dean had begged. “Please? You can do that.”

“Did you forget about Andy, Dean? The dude was baked the whole time.”

Dean had smirked, and Sam had wanted to punch him. “But Gadreel isn’t like that, I swear. He’s Cas’s cousin, for God’s sake. He’s just as clean cut as they come.”

“So he’s probably naïve and sheltered. Doesn’t sound much better.”

“ _C’mon_ ,” Dean had whined. “I promised Cas. Please?”

And damn if Sam couldn’t resist Dean’s pleading eyes.

 _Just one night_ , Sam reminded himself as he pressed the clicker for his Prius and strolled toward the entrance to the Roadhouse.

Inside, Sam scanned his surroundings until he spotted Cas and Dean in a back-corner booth. A man sat alone in the seat opposite theirs. Sam could see only the back of his head and shoulders. Through the smoky haze of the bar, he determined that the man had short light brown hair and wore a sky blue windbreaker. God, but this guy already looked like the annoying goody-goody type.

Sam approached the trio, pausing next to the booth. “Hi,” he ventured.

Dean glanced up from his burger and beamed. “Hey, Sammy!” He waved at the empty space beside Gadreel. “Have a seat.”

Gadreel frowned as Sam slid into the booth. “Sammy? I was informed that your name is Sam.”

Sam flushed. “It is.” He hooked a thumb at Dean. “But this idiot insists on treating me like I’m three.”

“What can I say; you’ll always be my baby bro.” He swallowed a huge bite of his burger then pointed at the unfamiliar man. “So. This’s Gadreel.”

Sam extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you,” Sam mumbled when Gadreel accepted the offered appendage.

Gadreel’s hand lingered just a little too long; Sam was surprised the moment didn’t feel awkward. “The pleasure is all mine,” Gadreel declared. He pronounced his words precisely, sort of like Cas but without the confusion so characteristic of his brother’s husband.

“So,” Sam began, “how long have you been in town, Gadreel?”

“Almost two weeks, I believe.”

“What do you think of the city so far?”

“Hmm. It can be quite—overwhelming. Everything seems rather busy. Hurried. I am not used to the rapid pace of this lifestyle.”

Cas smiled to himself. “It grows on you,” he murmured.

Gadreel furrowed his brow. “Grows? How can something grow upon you?”

God, how was it possible to be _more_ oblivious than Cas? Yet Gadreel seemed completely unashamed of his ignorance. He spoke with a quiet conviction, a confidence that drew Sam to him.

“It is merely an expression, Gadreel,” Cas explained. “It means . . . you become used to things.” He shrugged. “I eventually came to like the city.” He snaked an arm around Dean’s shoulders, rested his palm on Dean’s far shoulder, and gazed up at Dean with adoration. Dean returned the look, and Sam experienced a momentary spasm of jealousy. He wished he could have a bond like that with someone. “And what the city brought me.”

Dean grinned. “You old sap,” he teased.

“I am younger than you.”

“Whatever.” Their lips met halfway, and Sam and Gadreel averted their eyes. They gave each other self-conscious looks until Dean and Cas finally pried themselves away from each other.

Jo, Ellen’s daughter, appeared at their table, carrying a full tray. “I come bearing drinks and pie.”

Dean pushed aside his empty plate. “Thank God,” he commented.

“With an attitude like that, I’m not sure you deserve it.”

“Jo!”

“Quit your whining. ’Course you’ll get pie and beer.” She set a new drink in front of Cas and Dean then offered Sam his first drink of the night. Gadreel’s glass was still almost full, Sam noticed. After bestowing everyone with a slice of apple pie, Jo exhorted the group to enjoy then departed.

Gadreel wrinkled his nose. “Do you smell that?”

“What?” Dean replied. “The pie? It smells fuckin’ delicious.” Gadreel winced at Dean’s use of profanity, and Sam wondered why Dean couldn’t be more sensitive to what others were comfortable with.

“No. This establishment. It smells of old shoes and alcoholism.”

Sam howled with laughter. Gadreel had uttered the statement with such a serious face . . . and funny thing was, he was right.

Sam liked this guy. A lot.

“Fuck you, Gad.”

“That is not my name. And why are you insulting me?—”

Sam placed a hand on Gadreel’s shoulder as Dean shoveled a huge forkful of pie into his mouth. “Don’t sweat it.”

“Sweat—”

“Pay no attention to my brother.” Sam flashed a smirk at Dean. “He’s a jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean mumbled, and wow, Sam had _not_ needed to see the food in Dean’s mouth.

Gadreel’s eyes flitted between Sam and Dean. “I do not understand this ritual.”

“Ignore them,” Cas advised. “I gave up trying to comprehend the rules of Winchester banter long ago.”

After everyone finished their pie, Ellen left her spot behind the bar and approached them. “Hello, Sam, Dean, Cas. How’re you this evening?”

“Good, we’re good,” Dean answered.

Ellen eyed Gadreel. “And who are you, if I may ask?”

Gadreel extended a long arm past Sam toward Ellen. “My name is Gadreel, ma’am.”

Ellen shook his hand warmly. “Ellen.”

When Gadreel withdrew his hand, Dean said, “Ellen here owns this joint.”

“Joint?” Gadreel replied. “What does that—?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “God, you’re as clueless as Cas.”

Cas playfully punched Dean in the shoulder. “I _am_ right here, you realize.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, feigning an air of nonchalance. “And?” Cas mock-glared at him.

Ellen gathered the plates and announced, “I’ll leave you boys to it, then. Nice to meet you, Gadreel.”

“Likewise, Ellen.” After Ellen left, Gadreel turned to Dean, face full of hurt and frustration. “I wish you would not insult Castiel and myself for what we do not know. Until the Elders ejected us from the compound, we led a sheltered existence. I have been here for a mere two weeks, and I have not yet had the time to learn everything about the outside.”

“It was just a joke,” Dean responded.

“It did not feel like a joke. It felt hurtful.”

“Listen, I can’t help—”

“Dean,” Castiel interjected, wrapping a hand around his husband’s wrist. He eyed the center of the building, where a few couples swayed to the music. “Why don’t we dance?”

“What—?”

“Come _on_ ,” Castiel urged, pulling Dean from the booth.

Thank God for Cas. Sam could sense a storm brewing between Dean and Gadreel, spurred by a cultural disconnect. Neither of them could comprehend the other’s mindset. Obviously, Gadreel had not yet fully adjusted to life outside of his cultish family. After being with Cas for so long, Dean should’ve known better, but his head was stuck up his ass. Typical.

Sam flicked his eyes to Gadreel. “Listen, I’m sorry—” He abruptly ceased speaking when he noticed the tears sparkling in Gadreel’s light blue eyes. Breathtaking eyes, actually. Not as overwhelming and intimidating as Cas’s darker blue irises. He could perceive a gentle soul underneath those eyes. Gentle, yet brave.

He wanted to know the man behind those eyes.

“I’m sorry—” Sam resumed.

“You and your brother do not know what it was like. To have to hide who you are your whole life, to wonder if there is something wrong with you. To think you are weak because you have this seed of deviance inside you, a seed you are unable to squash no matter how hard you try. To admit your inclinations and be subjected to—” Gadreel shuddered. “— _treatment_. Treatment so frightful you cannot articulate it to another soul. Only Castiel understands, and I cannot fathom how he can sit there with that _cruel_ husband of his and let him talk as he does. To endure that after you have finally escaped, to be made aware that you are inadequately equipped for outside yet unfit for the Family.” Tears spilled onto his cheeks. He brushed them away and as an afterthought, added, “My apologies. I did not mean to insult your brother.”

Sam huffed a grim laugh. “No need to apologize, man. Dean can be frustrating. Believe me, I know.” He chewed his lip as he contemplated his next words. “Dean finds seriousness difficult. So he jokes, and sometimes he doesn’t realize how his jokes affect others. Underneath it all, he's one of the most caring people I know.”

Gadreel nodded to himself. “Yes. That is the sort of man I imagine Castiel marrying. And so his choice, this Dean . . . he puzzled me.”

“He doesn’t show that side of himself often. You have to get to know him.”

Gadreel deliberated for a few minutes then concluded, “I believe you, Sam. You seem trustworthy.”

Sam’s face heated up. What had he done to merit Gadreel’s positive opinion? “Thank you, Gadreel.” He rubbed two fingers over Gadreel’s knuckles and noted the small black dot on the webbing between thumb and forefinger. Cas had the same mark, and Sam inwardly shivered at what it must signify. Something to do with “treatment,” no doubt. “I am sorry about what you have been through. You are right.—I cannot completely understand since I was not there, but I am still sorry.”

“Thank you, Sam.” He glanced at Cas and Dean, who still occupied the dance floor. “I think I should like to see you again. Would that displease you?”

Sam’s heart throbbed at the hesitance in Gadreel’s voice. He grinned. “I would love to see you again, Gadreel.”

Gadreel returned the smile. “When shall we meet next?”

“Hmm. How about next Saturday? I will think of somewhere for us to go. Do you have a cell phone?”

Gadreel pulled an ancient phone from the pocket of his khakis. “Do you mean this contraption?”

“Yeah.”

“I am not familiar with how to operate it.”

“Cas can help you figure it out. Do you know the phone number for it?”

“Yes.”

“Can you write it down for me?” Sam retrieved a pen from one of his jeans pockets and passed both it and a napkin to Gadreel. “Here.” Gadreel scribbled the phone number and slid the materials back to Sam. “Thanks. I’ll call you.”

“I look forward to it.”


	4. T Minus 357 Days 17 Hours 8 Minutes

Sam picked Gadreel up from an apartment complex in one of the sketchier parts of town. He worried about a naïve guy like Gadreel living in a place like that, but he filed away the concern for now. If the connection with Gadreel turned into something, he could move in with Sam.

God, he barely knew the guy, and he was already thinking about living together? What was wrong with him?

Gadreel possessed an insatiable intellectual curiosity, so Sam had decided they should visit the art museum.

“What is your occupation, Sam?” Gadreel asked as Sam drove. “I have been given to understand that a person’s job is something people discuss when they first meet. I neglected to inquire about the matter during our engagement at the Roadhouse, and for that I apologize.”

‘No need,” Sam assured him. “I am a lawyer. And come to think of it, I didn’t ask what you did, either.”

Gadreel studied his hands. “That is a prestigious career, Sam. You must be quite intelligent.”

“Well,” Sam mumbled self-consciously. “So, what do you do?”

Gadreel wouldn’t raise his eyes from his hands. “I am afraid you would think ill of me if you knew.”

“Not at all.”

Gadreel cleared his throat. “Er. I work at one of those ubiquitous Gas ’n Sips.”

“There’s no shame in that, man. Cas used to work at a Gas ’n Sip before he became a librarian.”

Gadreel squinted at Sam. “Why do you and your brother call Castiel ‘Cas’?”

Sam shrugged. “It’s a nickname. It just sorta happened, I guess.”

“Is that why your brother attempted to call me ‘Gad’?”

Sam chuckled. “Probably.”

“It sounds ugly. I would prefer for everyone to utilize ‘Gadreel’.”

“Duly noted.”

Sam pulled into the museum’s parking lot and found a spot in the free area near the back. He and Gadreel strolled toward the large glass edifice in silence. After Sam paid for their tickets (over the objections of Gadreel), they stepped into the spacious circular lobby. Besides the entranceway, five wings branched out from this center, which leant the museum its star-like structure. Gadreel ventured into the hallway to their immediate right, and Sam followed him. A sign proclaimed that art projects from Pontiac Elementary School comprised the exhibit.

“We don’t have to look at this part,” Sam declared. “It’s just a bunch of kids’ stuff.”

“No,” Gadreel replied. “I enjoy witnessing the burgeoning creativity in these young minds.”

God, this generous, thoughtful man. Thank goodness Dean had forced him to meet the guy.

Sam took a closer look at the children’s works and smiled at the imprecise drawings. Most of them contained swatches of bright color. Like Gadreel, he found himself impressed by the surprising depths of some of the pieces. There was one that tugged at his heart. A young woman with a boy and a girl, the sun shining brightly on them. Meanwhile, an older man stood off to the side, dark clouds and rain surrounding him, his face a bit scary. He hoped the kid’s teacher had gotten her some help. Including such a personal drawing seemed inappropriate, but the blurb claimed that the girl had insisted she wanted people to see it.

They had to walk back down the aisle to return to the center point, which some people might find a hassle. However, Sam appreciated that aspect of the architecture. It meant that he could look at one side of the wing then the other without constantly traipsing back and forth.

The second hallway contained an exhibit of cubist paintings, and Gadreel examined them for a long time. “It is difficult to decipher some of these pictures, but I like them.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Sam concurred.

The third wing was made up of sculptures fashioned out of many different materials. Stone, wood, clay, bronze, all sorts of metal. A door at the end led to a garden outside; a poster on the door proclaimed that the garden held an exhibition of Thomas Miller’s wooden sculptures. Sam had never heard of the guy, but he thought they might as well take a look.

But once they entered the garden, Sam was puzzled. All he saw were random chunks of wood lying around. The luscious trees and colorful flowers were more impressive than they were. He and Gadreel walked to the other side of the garden, where a single slab of wood stood upon a pedestal. The “sculpture” was titled _Yearning_.

Sam rubbed his temple. “I don’t get it.” He glanced over his shoulder and found Gadreel scowling at the sculpture. “Gadreel?”

“That is not art. There is no feeling in the wood.”

Sam still couldn’t comprehend how anyone could claim he’d sculpted this. Perhaps Thomas Miller had scrawled something onto the wood. But when Sam bent down to examine it more closely, he saw nothing.

Sam straightened up and glared at the wood himself. “Yeah. This is one of those things that brings up the debate about what makes something art. Is it art just ’cause this guy, Thomas Miller, says so? If it is, then why should it be?”

“I believe that art requires feeling. Authenticity.”

“But how can we measure that? How do we know Thomas Miller didn’t put any feeling into this wood?”

“All he did was find a plank of wood somewhere and say it was his sculpture. How does that require feeling, Sam?”

Sam shrugged. “I dunno.” He grinned. “I was just playin’ devil’s advocate.”

“Devil’s advoc—”

“Arguing the opposite side so we could think about the topic.”

“Ah. Well, Sam, I did enjoy contemplating the matter.”

“So did I.”

When they left the museum, Sam realized he was holding Gadreel’s hand. He didn’t remember ever reaching for it, but he savored the touch.


	5. T Minus 322 Days 5 Hours 19 Minutes

Sam took one look at Gadreel’s outfit and rolled his eyes. Really, khakis and a crisp blue button-down? They were going to the arcade, not a business meeting. Although that shirt brought out Gadreel’s eyes _splendidly_. . .

“You might want to put something more casual on,” Sam advised as he shut Gadreel’s apartment door behind him, sighing in relief now that he’d finally escaped the stench in the hallway. Or most of it, at least; it still trickled in through the vents.

Gadreel arched an eyebrow. “Why?”

Sam gestured at his own attire, a pair of jeans and Stanford T-shirt. “Somethin’ like this is ideal. We’re just goin’ to play video games, dude.”

“I still do not understand the point of these ‘video games’.”

Sam inwardly rolled his eyes at the invisible quotation marks in Gadreel’s voice. “Fun.”

“Why does Dean have to go?”

“ _Because_. We’re serious now.” Sam swallowed, suddenly uncertain of his words. Gadreel nodded, and Sam relaxed. “He wants to get to know you better.”

“I do not think we shall ever get along,” Gadreel sniffed.

“Just give him a chance, all right?”

“All right.”

Gadreel changed into jeans, but he did not have any appropriate shirts, so he left on his button-down. He and Sam bounded down the stairs two at a time (the elevator was broken) and darted into Sam’s Prius. Sam tore out of the neighborhood, relieved when he finally reached a better part of town. Gadreel should really move.

In the arcade’s parking lot, Sam spotted Dean’s Impala and pulled into an empty space beside it. He led Gadreel inside and scanned the interior. Flashing lights beckoned them to play, and Sam squinted.

“He’s over there,” Gadreel announced, pointing in the opposite direction. Dean was chatting with the woman at the concession stand, laughing as he purchased a Coke. He and Gadreel headed toward him.

“Where’s Cas?” Sam asked as they approached.

“Hey, Sam, Gad . . . ” Gadreel frowned. “—reel.” He shrugged. “Yeah, Cas wasn’t feelin’ well. Stayed home.”

“Is he okay?” Gadreel asked, voice dripping with concern.

“Fine,” Dean assured him. “He’s just got a cold is all.” Dean slurped his Coke loudly, and Gadreel’s mouth turned down in distaste. “So,” Dean said, eyes gleeful, “I hear we’re teachin’ you how to play video games?” Gadreel nodded. “Great. Let’s get to it.” Sam and Gadreel followed him as he marched through the arcade, practically bouncing with excitement. He finally settled on Pac-Man. “How ’bout we try this one first? It’s pretty simple.” He leaned back against the machine and waited for Gadreel to join him.

“I would prefer for Sam to teach me.”

Dean quirked an eyebrow. “You sure?” He waved a thumb at the high scores. “See who’s got the top one?” Indeed, the top, third, and eighth highest scores were listed as belonging to “Dean W.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sam chimed in. He bumped Dean out of the way and ignored his grimace. “He just wants to know the basics. C’mere, Gadreel.” Gadreel sidled up next to Sam. Sam inserted two quarters and grasped the joystick. “See this? You’re gonna use it to move up and down, left and right.” Gadreel nodded, and the game booted up. “Now, look. I wanna try to get through the maze and eat all these dot-thingies without running into the enemies.” Sam pointed at each element as he mentioned it. “Watch.” Sam completed the first stage then handed off the game to Gadreel. “Your turn.”

“What do I do?” Gadreel asked.

“Hold the joystick.”

“What’s the joystick?”

Was he serious? Had he been listening to _anything_ Sam said? He was about to snap a retort when Dean saved his ass.

“Here,” Dean said, shoving his drink at Sam and grabbing the joystick.

“Oh. The object Sam was maneuvering earlier.”

“Yeah.” Dean snatched at Gadreel’s hand and placed it on the joystick with his. “Move with me.”

Sam listened as Dean explained the game to Gadreel, patiently yet with painstaking detail. By the end of the lesson, Gadreel had figured out how to pass a level on his own. He cheered, and Dean clapped.

“Are you a teacher?” Gadreel inquired.

“No. Why?” Dean replied.

“You would be an excellent one.”

Dean flushed and jammed his hands in his pockets. “Nah. Mechanic here. I ain’t smart enough for that.”

Gadreel studied Dean. “No, you seem smart to me.”

Dean barked an uneasy laugh and muttered, “Thanks.”

While they hadn’t exactly become the best of friends, Dean and Gadreel now seemed to respect each other. Sam grinned.


	6. T Minus 289 Days 1 Hour 3 Minutes

As their relationship evolved, Sam enjoyed introducing Gadreel to the wider world. To foods, TV shows, the Internet, various fields of study. Gadreel liked nature, and Sam could see him becoming a park ranger.

He’d discovered that Gadreel loved cheese, so tonight they were making a simple meal of macaroni and cheese. Actually, Gadreel would be solely responsible for cooking, and Sam would supervise him. It would be the first time Gadreel had ever prepared anything by himself, and they were both excited.

In his kitchen, Sam lingered inches behind Gadreel as he stirred the cheese sauce. He sipped his beer, and Gadreel occasionally did the same. Though he was still a lightweight, Gadreel had grown used to the taste of beer. He even found it relaxing, and Sam was proud. Not because drinking was a major accomplishment, but because Gadreel was adjusting to the world outside of his former existence. He would fit in just fine.

Gadreel scooped up a spoonful of the cheese sauce and frowned as he watched it drop back into the pot. “Does this look watery to you?” Sam shrugged, and Gadreel scooped up more cheese sauce. When he dumped the sauce back into the pot, Sam observed the action more closely.

“It looks all right to me,” Sam concluded.

“Hmm. Perhaps someone should taste it.”

“Maybe.”

“How about you?”

“Sure.” Gadreel ladled more cheese sauce and held it out toward Sam. Sam opened his mouth, and Gadreel shoved the spoon into it. There was too much sauce on the spoon, and Sam almost choked on it. But yeah, the cheese was good. “It’s delicious, man.”

“Hmm.” Gadreel still seemed unsure.

Sam snatched the spoon from Gadreel and scooped up a small helping of sauce. “Maybe you should try it.”

“All right.”

Gadreel cracked his lips open, and Sam fed him the cheese sauce. Gadreel moaned in delight as he swallowed the liquid. A dollop of cheese dripped from his chin.

Sam laid the spoon down on the counter and pointed at the spot on his own face. “You’ve got something here.”

Gadreel narrowed his eyes as if deep in thought. “Where?”

“Here.” Sam wiped off a strand of the cheese with one finger. Without thinking about it, he leaned in closer and licked the rest of the cheese off of Gadreel’s chin.

Then his lips brushed Gadreel’s.

Shit. _Shit._ Gadreel and he had been dating for a while, but they had never kissed. Gadreel was inexperienced, and Sam hadn’t wanted to freak the guy out by moving too fast.

Sam pried his lips off of Gadreel’s and took a step back. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to—”

Gadreel frowned. “Why are you sorry?”

“God, I just _forced myself on you_.—”

“You did not,” Gadreel enunciated in that crisply clear voice of his. “I would have pushed you away if I did not desire the contact.”

“Wha—”

“I liked it very much,” Gadreel continued, his eyes alight with contemplation and affection. “May we do that again, beloved?”

 _Beloved_. Gadreel had taken to addressing Sam by the moniker almost two weeks ago. It sounded quaint and old-fashioned, and Sam adored it. The word was just so _Gadreel_ and—.

Gadreel was a truly unique individual. Sometimes, Sam still thought about his argument with Dean concerning the blind date. God, if he had won that debate, he would’ve never found this wonderful man.

Sam chuckled. “Of course, Gadreel. Of course.”

He leaned into Gadreel’s personal space, his lips hovering hesitantly over Gadreel’s. Gadreel closed the distance, and their lips fused together.

Gadreel kissed clumsily, his nose continually bumping into Sam’s. Sam didn’t care. He was too busy marveling at the fact that they were kissing.

Sam guided Gadreel to the couch in his living room, stopping to nip Gadreel’s lips as he did so. Gadreel tumbled backwards onto the sofa, and Sam straddled his hips.

Sam taught Gadreel everything he knew about kissing, and the cheese sauce sat on the stovetop, long forgotten


	7. T Minus 262 Days 4 Hours 48 Minutes

They’d already spent much too long searching for dress shirts at the Men’s Wearhouse, and Sam was starting to get irritated. He didn’t despise shopping as much as Dean, but there was a limit to what even he could tolerate. Sam’s boss had invited him out to dinner, and he and Gadreel required suitable attire for the occasion. Gadreel had already picked his out with little fuss, but Sam wouldn’t rest until he’d found the perfect one.

After he’d gathered five shirts and solicited Gadreel’s opinion while trying them on, he put three of the options back then held up the olive green and black choices. “Which one do you like better, babe?” he asked Gadreel.

Gadreel gaped at him. “Did you just address me as ‘babe’?”

“Um. Yeah?” _So what?_

“Sam, I am deeply insulted.”

“What the hell?” Sam balked.

“Choose your words carefully. We are in public.”

“Gadreel, I—”

“Why are you equating me with an infant?”

Finally, Sam got it, and he burst into laughter. Gadreel scowled at him, uncomprehending. Sam had simply used the word in a fashion that didn’t exist in his partner’s lexicon. “It’s a term of endearment between significant others, _babe_.”

“That—is deeply disturbing.”

Sam gazed back at him, nonplussed. “What do you mean?”

“Think about it. People are using the same term to refer to both infants and lovers.” He spoke the latter word with a hint of awe. “Why would an individual wish to associate a small child with the same word as an individual with which one is intimate? What does that indicate about society?”

“Shit,” Sam realized, “you’re right.” Gadreel glared, and Sam quickly apologized for cursing. “But it goes even deeper than that.”

Gadreel tilted his head to the side, eyes rapt. “How so?”

“Sometimes we might refer to girlfriends as ‘mamas’ or boyfriends as ‘daddies.’ Talk about mommy and daddy issues.”

“That is appalling.”

Sam snickered. “I can imagine, if you think about it that way. I wonder what the etymology is behind that.”

“It would be interesting to know. But please do not address me as such again.”

Sam shoved at Gadreel’s shoulder playfully. “Oh, I think I will, _babe_.” Gadreel shuddered. “You’ll get used to it. Besides, it’s not like I’d ever think of you as anything like a toddler.” He rubbed a hand over Gadreel’s bicep. “Far from it,” he whispered.

“Fine,” Gadreel huffed. He pointed a finger at the olive green button-down. “That one.”

“What?”

“I prefer that shirt. It brings out the green in your eyes. They are hazel, but occasionally, when you wear the right colors, green specks are illuminated.” He placed his lips to Sam’s ear and breathed, “In those moments, I find myself unable to look away from your eyes.”

Sam purchased the olive green shirt.


	8. T Minus 236 Days 21 Hours 37 Minutes

On a blustery day, Sam and Gadreel visited Lebanon State Park, located about forty-five minutes outside city limits. They’d been exploring this park’s hiking trails for the past several weekends, and now they would attempt the most advanced one. Eight miles of rocky terrain covered with trees and other plant life.

Gadreel hefted his backpack onto his shoulders and called, “Are you ready?”

Sam adjusted the straps on his backpack and nodded, though not without a hint of trepidation. He hadn’t attempted to hike such a daring trail since his college days. Was he fit enough for it? Would he tire so easily that Gadreel would ridicule him? For some reason, Gadreel was under the impression that he and Sam were of a similar build. Yes, they were both quite tall, Sam even taller than Gadreel, but Gadreel possessed more muscle. Gadreel’s gray hoodie somehow accentuated his biceps and chest, and man, Sam _so_ did not need to get hard right now. _Shut up, brain._

“Are you all right?” Gadreel asked.

“’Course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You look a little nervous.” Gadreel flashed a teasing smile. “You are not intimidated by this trail, are you?”

“Shut up,” Sam mumbled. Gadreel chortled.

Sam and Gadreel found the trail’s beginning, a thin dirt path canopied by surrounding trees. Every few feet, a red mark on a trunk indicated the direction of the path. After ten minutes, the path widened, but the terrain grew steeper.

A gust of wind almost leveled Sam, while Gadreel remained unaffected. That gust must’ve been blowing at least forty miles an hour to smack into Sam like that, but Gadreel withstood it like a stalwart metal pole.

Sam felt a twinge of uncertainty. Gadreel was obviously a more impressive physical specimen than he was. What did Gadreel see in him? He could probably find someone better. If he hadn’t lived such a sheltered life, surely he’d know that. Sam should help him reach his true potential, find a partner worthy of him.

The thought stung, but he knew it was true. He cared about Gadreel enough to realize that holding him back wasn’t doing either of them any favors.

Sam wanted to prove himself in some way, though. On their hikes, he always needed to stop for a drink of water first. This time, he decided that he would not succumb first. If he could outlast Gadreel, maybe . . .

Well, maybe he could show he wasn’t completely worthless.

They trekked in companionable silence for an hour. During the second hour, Sam’s breathing started coming in shallow gasps. He struggled to maintain his footing on the rocky hill they were ascending, while Gadreel of course seemed perfectly fine.

Gadreel paused in his ascent. “Sam. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam wheezed. With one hand, he wiped the sweat off of his brow. “Let’s keep going.”

“Are you sure? If you should like to rest—”

“I _don’t_ ,” Sam hurled a little too sharply. Gadreel flinched at Sam’s tone, and guilt pierced into Sam.

“Very well,” Gadreel said softly, voice slightly cowed. Sam wanted to cry. He’d never heard Gadreel sound so defeated before. And he was the one who’d brought it on.

Yes, Gadreel was too good for him.

Gadreel had resumed his progress up the hill, and now Sam followed at a slower pace. As they proceeded, Sam struggled ever more to breathe. Eventually, he lost his footing, and he tumbled down the side of the hill.

“Sam!” Gadreel shouted.

Sam didn’t see what happened after that. Next thing he knew, Gadreel was cradling him in his arms, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. “Why did you refuse to stop?” he asked, tears glittering in his eyes.

“I didn’t want to hold you up,” Sam puffed.

Gadreel laughed sadly. “I do not care about that, Sam. Why would I?”

“It’s just—” Sam swallowed. He couldn’t confess his insecurities without sounding like an idiot.

“What is it?”

“I had to show you . . . ”

“Show me what?”

“That I could be strong.”

“You do not need to show me that. I know.”

“What? I’m always slowing you down on our hikes.—”

“That does not signify. The true measure of strength is here.” He pressed a hand over Sam’s heart. “And this, my beloved—” With two fingers, he stroked the area above Sam’s heart. “—is the strongest one I have ever seen.”

Dean would deride Gadreel for being a sap, and maybe Gadreel’s words had been sappy. But Sam treasured them, especially since he knew they were sincere. “Thank you.”

Gadreel pecked Sam on the lips and drew him close to his chest.

“I’m sorry I was so stupid,” Sam said.

“Do not worry yourself. Now. Let us rest, yes?”

“Yeah.”

Gadreel retrieved their water bottles and passed Sam’s to him. After they’d remained still for fifteen minutes, they resumed their hike.

They arrived at a small clearing around lunchtime. They halted their progress, perching on logs and pulling out sandwiches and granola bars. Sam gulped down half of the contents of one of his Nalgene bottles before he finally bit into a sandwich. Gadreel scarfed down his food as if he hadn’t eaten anything for a week. Sam grinned fondly. Often, Gadreel had quite the healthy appetite.

After he’d finished eating, Gadreel dragged his log behind Sam’s. When he sat back down, he wrapped his arms around Sam’s shoulders, and Sam leaned back against Gadreel’s chest while he munched on his last granola bar. When he was through, Sam tossed the wrapper into his backpack and closed his eyes.

“Mmm. I could stay like this forever,” Sam commented.

“As could I,” Gadreel agreed.

They dozed off for a while. When they finally disentangled themselves from each other, they noted that the sky had darkened. Gadreel frowned up at the clouds. “It appears as if it might rain.”

“Dammit, I hope not,” Sam muttered. Gadreel had become more comfortable with hearing others curse even though he still never used profanity himself. And if he heard someone utter a string of curse words all at once, as Dean periodically tended to do, it put him ill at ease. “It shouldn’t,” Sam continued. “The weather report said there was only a slim chance.”

As if on cue, as soon as the words were out of Sam’s mouth, rain cascaded down in torrents. Sam raised his backpack over his head and huddled underneath it. Gadreel, however, stood up and gazed up at the sky.

“Dude, what’re you doing?” Sam inquired.

Gadreel stretched out his arms and beamed up at the sky. “Come on, Sam,” he shouted over the downpour. “Let us embrace the rain!”

“Are you nuts?” Sam yelled back. Gadreel’s grin merely widened.

God, Sam was so gonna regret this decision. He’d probably catch pneumonia or something.

He tossed his backpack to the ground and stepped up beside Gadreel, squinting in the rain. Gadreel kept his arms extended and twirled around in circles, giggling.

Sam had never heard Gadreel _giggle_. Laugh, yes, but never giggle.

He couldn’t help but smile at the sound.

Gadreel ceased his spinning and said, “We were never allowed to do this in the Family.”

“Do what?” Sam replied.

“Play in the rain. Here, outside, I have seen children doing it. I expressed such a desire once and was punished for it.”

Sam despised the Novak Family. They had sucked the joy out of their children’s lives and discarded them like refuse if they did not conform to their narrow ideals. Occasionally, Dean would tell Sam that he’d like to “tear down that place and murder those soulless bastards.”

After meeting Gadreel, Sam had begun entertaining similar thoughts.

He shook his head, attempting to dislodge the negativity. Gadreel had just fulfilled a childhood wish, and Sam rejoiced in the wonder lighting up his face.

Gadreel held his arms out toward Sam, and Sam stepped into them. Gadreel clasped his hands behind Sam’s neck and leaned into him. Sam backed up until he hit a tree; then Gadreel placed his lips on Sam’s.

He had become a most skilled kisser.

Sam opened his mouth, and their tongues entwined.

Rain dripped in rivulets from their lips, which merely served to heighten Sam’s passion.

Their heat mingled, bodies pressed close together as they devoured each other with their mouths.

It was perfect.


	9. T Minus 183 Days 23 Hours 39 Minutes

With arms crossed, Sam and Gadreel gazed at the Prius, which was filled with Gadreel’s meager possessions. Gadreel was finally moving in with Sam, and a goofy smile seemed almost permanently etched onto his face. They’d constantly argued about Gadreel’s living arrangements during the past month. Sam would never have been bold enough to actually ask Gadreel to move in with him. After all, the guy had grown up in an evangelical cult, and that was bound to leave its mark on a person. Perhaps Gadreel thought cohabitation without marriage was a sin.

Nevertheless, Sam worried about Gadreel living in a seedy apartment complex. Especially when someone had been murdered two doors down from Gadreel a couple months ago.

“I am not a child, Sam,” Gadreel had asserted when Sam had brought up his concerns. “I can take care of myself.”

“But someone was _killed_ a few feet away from your apartment,” Sam had argued.

Gadreel had shrugged as if a _murder_ didn’t signify, and Sam had bristled at his nonchalance. “I do not think I am in danger,” Gadreel had expressed. “From what I hear, the death stemmed from a gang war.”

“And that’s why you shouldn’t live there!” Sam had spluttered. Gadreel had raised his eyebrow questioningly. “You don’t want to be caught in the middle of a gang dispute.” Did he even understand how serious such a situation could be?

“Stop patronizing me.”

“I am not.—” But Gadreel had turned his back to Sam and headed toward the bathroom, effectively ending the discussion.

Nonetheless, Sam had continued to pester Gadreel over the next few weeks. Eventually, Gadreel had admitted that he didn’t like his apartment. The hallway always smelled bad, and the neighbors were loud. Sam had suggested looking for a new place, and Gadreel’s response had taken Sam by surprise.

“Perhaps I could live with you,” Gadreel had mused.

“Are you serious?” Sam had replied.

“Yes.” He had frowned. “Was that presumptuous of me to say? I apologize. You should not feel obligated to allow me residence in your abode.”

Sam had laughed, heart joyful. “No, not at all,” he had said. “I would love for you to live with me. More than anything in the world.”

“Do you mean that, or is this some sort of joke I do not understand?”

“No, man.” He had embraced Gadreel. “Please come live with me.” He had pressed his lips to Gadreel’s then stepped back.

“How could I resist an appeal like that?”

Now Sam and his boyfriend contemplated what they should unload first. They didn’t have much time; dusk would be settling in soon.

“Shall we start hauling in my possessions?” Gadreel asked.

“Yeah, let’s get it over with,” Sam decided.

They carried Gadreel’s suitcases to Sam’s bedroom—well, from henceforth it would be Sam and Gadreel’s bedroom. Sam’s skin tingled at the notion. Sharing a bed had been Gadreel’s idea, too, which made Sam happy because he knew he wasn’t coercing Gadreel into anything. Not that anyone could coerce Gadreel into anything, Sam thought with amusement. He was even more stubborn than Dean when he insisted on sticking to his guns.

“You’re sure about this?” Sam said after they’d lugged in the last of Gadreel’s bags.

“For the last time, Sam,” Gadreel sighed. “I am more than sure.”

“Okay. Just checkin’.” An awkward silence ensued. After a few minutes, Sam knelt, unzipped one of the suitcases, and said, “I guess we should start unpacking.”

“Perhaps we could wait until tomorrow. I want to savor the moment.”

“What moment?”

Gadreel gripped Sam’s shoulder and coaxed him back into a standing position. “Revel in my appreciation for us.” He guided Sam backward until his back hit the wall. “Celebrate.” He graced Sam with a gentle kiss. When he pulled back, his tongue flicked over Sam’s lips, and Sam definitely wanted to drink of him again.

“I could get behind that,” Sam murmured.

“Yes?”

“Yeah.”

Gadreel caged Sam in, placing his hands directly above Sam’s shoulders. Sam flattened himself against the wall. Maybe this should’ve felt constricting, but it didn’t. It was like he was cocooned in Gadreel, and Sam drew energy from the shelter.

Gadreel’s lips met Sam’s. Sam clamped down firmly on Gadreel’s mouth, fusing the two of them together, sucking almost as desperately as a vampire. Gadreel moaned and pressed closer, so close it felt as if they might melt into each other. Sam wouldn’t have minded if they did.

After several minutes, they pulled back reluctantly, panting. Sam would’ve gladly suffocated to sustain the contact between himself and Gadreel, but that would hardly be conducive to any prospects for enjoying the future with his lover.

Gadreel’s hands slid down to Sam’s shoulders, and he spun them around. Sam allowed Gadreel to guide him toward the bed. He gently shoved Sam, and Sam toppled, back hitting the bed, though the pressure in Gadreel’s hands had been almost nonexistent. In his startled state, Sam’s limbs were nothing but taffy.

Even though Gadreel did sometimes initiate make-out sessions, his efforts had often seemed hesitant. He’d certainly never been as aggressive as this.

As Gadreel crawled onto the bed, he bracketed Sam with a knee on each side of his hips while Sam stared up at him with wide eyes.

His boyfriend was deceptively predictable. Every time Sam thought he’d figured him out, he always found a way to surprise him.

Gadreel tugged on the collar of Sam’s shirt and, in a matter-of-fact voice, pronounced, “I would like to have sex.”

“What?” Sam spouted. He couldn’t have heard Gadreel right.

Gadreel inched his knees forward. “I said that I should like to have sex.” He canted his head to the side, an action that vaguely echoed Cas. But Cas’s head tilts reminded Sam of a disoriented bird, while Gadreel’s . . . well, Gadreel’s brought to mind a confident stag.

Gadreel reddened. “Do you not wish to? I apologize. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

He straightened as if to scoot away, but Sam arrested the motion with a hand to the shoulder. “No.” Gadreel cast his eyes down. “I mean—yeah. Yeah, I do.” Gadreel raised considering eyes to Sam’s. “It’s just—are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“Why would I not be ready?”

“Well.” Now Sam flushed, too. “Um. Have you ever . . . y’know.” Gadreel crooked a puzzled eyebrow, and Sam forced himself to continue. “Have you ever even had sex?”

“Why should that matter?”

“I’ll take that as a no. I just—I don’t want you to feel like, y’know. Like you _have_ to. If you’d rather wait, I’m fine with that.”

“I wish you would stop treating me as if I am made of glass, Sam.”

“What? I don’t—”

“Yes. Yes, you do. I do not need to always move slowly just because I grew up in an insulated environment. Now.” A hand slid up the mattress until it stopped beside Sam’s ear. “What do you say?”

“Yeah. ’Course I want to. As long as you’re sure.” Gadreel gave him an exasperated look, and Sam swallowed. “Okay,” he added, cursing the redundancy.

Gadreel smiled. “Okay.” He leaned down, smashing his lips against Sam’s as he slowly unbuttoned his flannel shirt with one hand. Sam planted a hand in Gadreel’s hair. After Sam tore off Gadreel’s shirt, he tossed it to the floor and raked both hands across Gadreel’s back. Gadreel mirrored the action, and soon they were yanking off jeans and boxers. Gadreel tentatively brushed his fingers across Sam’s dick, and Sam gasped at the sensation. He ran a thumb over Gadreel’s penis, and Gadreel groaned loudly. Pre-cum leaked out, and Sam lapped at it experimentally. Gadreel gaped down at him.

“Who shall penetrate? You or I?” Gadreel inquired.

God, but sometimes Gadreel’s unabashed frankness boggled Sam’s mind. “Um, it might be easier . . . ” Sam mumbled. “Y’know, if you let me do all the work this time? Until you get the general idea.”

“That sounds pragmatic.” Sam wiggled out from under Gadreel and hopped off of the bed. “Where are you going?”

“We need lube,” Sam explained as he dug a bottle out of his top drawer. He hadn’t used it for over a year, back before Sarah had broken up with him so she could move away to pursue her doctorate in art history. For a second, he contemplated also grabbing a condom, but Gadreel was a virgin and Sam was clean, so he saw no need. If he could push into Gadreel without any barriers between them . . . Jeez, had he really almost just come at the thought?

Still, it wouldn’t do not to ask Gadreel about the matter. He didn’t want to take advantage of his ignorance. He held up a condom and asked, “Should we use one of these?”

“A condom?” Gadreel ventured in a low voice, blushing. “I thought those were used to prevent pregnancy.”

“Um. Yeah. But it also helps protect you from sexually transmitted diseases.” Gadreel frowned, and Sam felt a little self-conscious as he continued his explanation. “There are some diseases that can spread through sex, you know. And neither of us would like—”

“Do you have one, Sam?”

Sam blinked. “Do I have what?”

“A sexually transmitted disease.”

“No.”

“You know very well I do not.”

“Yeah.”

“So the condom is unnecessary.”

“Um, well, sex can also be kinda messy. The condom can keep everything, um, contained.”

Gadreel laughed, and Sam’s lips twitched into a smile. “I do not care about such things, Sam. Do you?” Sam shook his head. “Good. Because I would _not_ like to have that sheath between us. Unless you would?” Again, Sam shook his head. “Okay. Now, come back here.”

Sam threw the condom into the drawer. When he returned to the bed, Gadreel was reclining on it, legs spread open, rippling muscles on full display. Sam’s mouth watered. “Okay. So, here’s how this works. I’ve got to prep you first. Otherwise, it’ll be too much. Um. We’ve gotta use the lube to, um, keep it from hurting. Ready?”

“Yes.”

Sam coated his fingers with lube and gingerly slipped the first one inside Gadreel’s ass. Gadreel gasped at the sensation, but when Sam asked if he was okay, he nodded. He nuzzled Gadreel’s neck as he added another finger and scissored them. With each new finger, Gadreel’s moans grew more heated. He whined when Sam extracted all four of them. Sam sealed his lips atop Gadreel’s as he guided his dick inside, finally. Damn, but Gadreel was tight. Gadreel’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, and Sam proceeded slowly, not wanting to overwhelm him. But eventually Gadreel breathed into Sam’s mouth to move faster, faster, God, and Sam began to thrust in earnest. Ever quicker, impaling Gadreel and screaming as he came inside his lover. He had just enough presence of mind to register that Gadreel had come untouched before he blacked out.

When he regained awareness, he grabbed the article of clothing nearest to him (his boxers) and cleaned up the mess. Afterward, he threw the boxers to the floor and curled up against Gadreel’s side, burying his nose in Gadreel’s neck. Gadreel sighed contentedly.

“That was . . . amazing,” Gadreel said softly.

“Hmm.” Sam kissed Gadreel’s neck. “I love you.”

Gadreel wrapped an arm around Sam and pulled him close. “I love you, too. Beloved.”

They had never uttered those words before, and Sam glowed at the exchange. But as Sam dozed off, he wondered whether Gadreel had been telling him that all along with his favorite term of endearment: beloved.


	10. T Minus 151 Days 19 Hours 6 Minutes

Sam had an arm curled around Gadreel’s shoulders as they read in bed. Today had been a stressful day in court, and Sam could scarcely pay attention to his book. He craved the distraction, the comfort, of his bare skin meeting Gadreel’s.

Sam eyed Gadreel, who had shut his tome and placed it on his bedside table. “Are you ready to turn off the light?” he asked.

“Yes,” Gadreel replied.

He tossed his novel onto his own bedside table and flipped off the lamp. Making love in complete darkness was rather difficult, but the nightlight cast a dim glow, illuminating Gadreel’s figure in a way that reminded Sam of moonlight. He bent down, brushing his lips over Gadreel’s, inserting a hand underneath Gadreel’s fluffy cotton shirt—

“Sam, stop,” Gadreel declared.

Sam’s hand froze. “What?” Gadreel couldn’t mean that. Just before he’d extinguished the light, he’d seen the lust in Gadreel’s eyes.

Gadreel gently shoved Sam away and sat up straighter. “I want to be the one who tops tonight. That is the correct term, is it not?”

“Yes.”

He flipped Sam over. When his back hit the mattress, Sam’s desire increased tenfold. “Are you sure?” he inquired. “Do you know what to do—”

Gadreel scowled down at him, a smoldering scowl. Oh, God, Gadreel was so damn _hot_. “I am not an imbecile, Sam. This past month, I have learned the proper technique by watching you.”

So, Gadreel had been observing Sam with clinical detachment even amidst the throes of passion. _Kinky_. Maybe once Gadreel had gained more experience, he’d be up for some roleplay—

“Take off your shirt, Sam,” Gadreel ordered, and _fuck_ , that authoritative tone really did things to his dick.

Sam tore off his shirt and hurled it to the floor. Gadreel peeled off his own shirt and threw it to the ground as well. He leaned down toward Sam, his body tantalizingly close. He propped himself up with one elbow and, with his free hand, stroked over the length of Sam’s torso. “Mmm. Beloved. Your vessel . . . the things it does to me,” Gadreel purred.

Sometimes Gadreel used the term “vessel” for “body.” A tradition his family had taught him, it seemed, to illustrate that corporeal forms were fleeting homes for the eternal soul. Usually, Sam couldn’t help but giggle at the word, but he wasn’t giggling now.

Sam released a shaky breath as he caressed Gadreel’s skin with both hands. “And you, Gadreel, you do . . . so . . . many . . . . things to me,” Sam puffed.

Was it his imagination, or did Gadreel actually _smirk_? He tugged at Sam’s pants, and Sam obligingly lifted his ass from the bed so Gadreel could divest him of first that then his boxers. Sam reached for Gadreel’s pants, but Gadreel swatted his arm away. Sam gaped at him.

“Not until I say so, Sam,” he reprimanded, punctuating the words with slow grinds against Sam’s cock.

“Mmmmmmmmm,” Sam moaned. “So bossy.”

Gadreel pinched a nipple between two fingers, and Sam hissed at the divine sensation. “Am I?” he asked, quirking up an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Sam huffed.

“Does that surprise you?”

“Yes.” Everything Gadreel was doing surprised him, actually. He certainly hadn’t picked up some of this stuff from Sam. He had never imagined Gadreel possessed such a dominant side.

Gadreel twisted the nipple, and Sam groaned. “Well, what do you think? Should I stop?”

“No,” Sam gasped.

“Good. Because I do not wish to.” Gadreel’s other hand migrated to Sam’s dick, massaging it once the hand reached its destination. Sam hummed with lust and bucked up against Gadreel’s hand, his pace becoming frantic, and now, just a little more friction—

Gadreel let go of him, and Sam howled with frustration.

“You will not experience release. Not until I have penetrated you.” There was that detachment again, and damn if Sam hadn’t almost come right then. “Is that understood?”

“Yes,” Sam breathed.

“Good. I shall retrieve the lubricant.” He bounded off the bed and dug around in the top drawer until he located the relevant bottle. He slithered back to the bed, shedding his pants and boxers before he plopped down.

That was the moment it hit Sam full force. Gadreel was topping tonight. Gadreel was going to be _inside_ him.

A thrill coursed through Sam’s body. Gadreel was quite large. Sam was confident he could handle it, but he was still anxious.

That anxiety only served to heighten his desire.

Gadreel gazed down at him, almost as if his eyes were drilling into Sam’s soul. He smoothed an index finger over Sam’s cheekbone.

“Stop teasing,” Sam pleaded.

Gadreel looked askance at him but didn’t comment. He sat up on his knees and poured some lube onto his fingers. “All right. I shall prepare you.” One fingertip hovered over Sam’s rim when Gadreel murmured, “Are you ready?” Sam nodded, and Gadreel carefully inserted a finger.

The intrusion—it felt strange. Sam had dated guys before, but he’d never bottomed. He hadn’t known what to expect, honestly, but he’d thought he would hate the vulnerability of surrendering control.

Yet he didn’t. Oh, far from it. It was exhilarating to allow someone else to take the lead.

Gadreel attended to Sam’s cock with his other hand, and Sam was overwhelmed by sensation, the push-pull of submitting himself to Gadreel and fucking into Gadreel’s hand.

“I will add another one now,” Gadreel informed him.

“Okay,” Sam whispered.

And _God_ , there really was no way to describe how Gadreel’s fingers felt. Especially when he started scissoring them, then inserted a third finger and hit Sam’s prostate. Sam moaned the first time it happened, sweat dripping down his temples as he wordlessly begged for more by frantically bouncing on Gadreel’s fingers. Then the fourth, and _damn_ —

An involuntary whine escaped Sam when Gadreel withdrew his fingers. But he knew something better was coming.

Gadreel positioned himself over Sam, and Sam spread his legs, wrapping them around Gadreel’s waist in order to give Gadreel easier access.

“Are you ready?” Gadreel asked.

“Yeah.”

Gadreel shoved in all at once, splitting Sam apart. Sam groaned, and Gadreel frowned.

“I apologize. Did I do that too quickly?” Gadreel said.

“No. It’s perfect,” Sam coughed out. Yes, most people would admonish Gadreel for moving too fast, but Sam relished the burn. However, now Gadreel remained frustratingly still. “Move,” he urged.

“Oh. Yes.” Gadreel thrust against Sam. They moved in rapid time, the slap of their bodies echoing throughout the room.

“Sam, I—” Gadreel choked out.

“Do it,” Sam snarled.

Gadreel shuddered, his cum filling up Sam’s ass.

“Your turn,” Gadreel laughed. He grabbed Sam’s dick and proceeded to suck him off. Sam had done that for Gadreel only once, but Gadreel seemed to have somehow mastered the task. “Oh, God,” Sam breathed. “Fuck, yeah . . . Gadreel, I’m—” he tried to warn his lover.

Gadreel made no move to retreat, however. “I can take it.”

And with the vibration of that voice against his cock, Sam couldn’t hold it in anymore. His cum shot into Gadreel’s mouth, and Gadreel swallowed before licking the droplets off his lips.

“Wow,” Sam sighed.

“Yes,” Gadreel agreed. He crawled up until he was flush against Sam and kissed him on the forehead. “Good night, my love.”

“Good night,” Sam murmured as his eyes drooped closed. Perhaps they should clean up the mess, but this felt so fuckin’ good, Gadreel tucked in against him.


	11. T Minus 103 Days 21 Hours 1 Minute

“We can finish cleaning the dishes later, Sam. The show is about to start,” Gadreel shouted, not giving Sam a chance to reply as he raced into the living room. Sam sighed. No, the dishes could not wait. He itched at the very idea of letting the dishes wallow in the sink for an hour.

Sam didn’t understand Gadreel’s obsession with _Dr. Sexy_. Or Dean’s, for that matter. It was the schlockiest primetime soap opera Sam had ever seen. Despite protestations to the contrary, Dean could get caught up in the trashiest shows, so his love for _Dr. Sexy_ didn’t surprise Sam all that much, but Gadreel was a different story. Gadreel’s normal TV fare consisted of educational programs, and he didn’t enjoy most movies and shows that contained a great deal of sexual content. Apparently, _Dr. Sexy_ was the exception, and Sam had no clue as to why.

It was Dean’s fault. When he and Cas had come over for dinner one evening and stayed longer than they’d intended, Dean had insisted that he couldn’t miss the night’s all-new episode of _Dr. Sexy_. Cas had supported Dean’s request even as he rolled his eyes, so Sam had reluctantly assented. Gadreel had asked Dean what the show was about, and he’d scowled as Dean detailed the plot. “That sounds _awful_!” Gadreel had opined.

But once he’d begun watching the show, Gadreel couldn’t get enough. When it was over, he and Dean had gabbed about every little detail of the episode. Soon, they’d bonded through their mutual love for the show. Before then, though they’d had a cordial relationship, they hadn’t been more than passing acquaintances. Sam was glad they’d finally found a way to connect as friends, but did it really have to involve that stupid show?

Sam rinsed the few remaining dishes and placed them in the dishwasher. It would be full by tomorrow night, and they’d run it through the cycle then.

When Sam stepped into the living room, Gadreel chided him for missing the first ten minutes of the episode. Sam couldn’t care less, however; he watched it merely to indulge Gadreel. He picked up his tablet from the coffee table and snuggled against Gadreel’s chest, grabbing the blanket hanging off the arm of the couch and throwing it over himself and his boyfriend. He loved dating someone who was about his size. In his past relationships, his girlfriend or boyfriend would always wind up huddling against him, functioning as the little spoon. Until Gadreel, he hadn’t realized how much he would appreciate sometimes being the supported one, the little spoon. He nestled his head on Gadreel’s shoulder and navigated to the Internet.

“Don’t forget to pay attention to what is happening,” Gadreel reminded him.

“I can multitask,” Sam mumbled. He typed out the address to a news website and commenced scrolling through the headlines.

Gadreel tapped him on the shoulder. “Sam. The show has returned.”

Suppressing a sigh, Sam raised his eyes from the tablet. One of the female doctors was trying to perform a surgery, but she kept getting distracted by a young man’s ghost.

“This show has ghosts? Why?” Sam scoffed.

“Sam, that was her boyfriend. He died in a car accident. It is only natural for her to be traumatized by the event.”

“Whatever.”

Gadreel looked displeased by his response, but then Dr. Sexy appeared on screen, which garnered all of his attention.

“God, you’re just as much of a fanboy as Dean,” Sam complained.

“Bite me,” Gadreel muttered.

Sam smiled to himself. Lately, that had become Gadreel’s favorite expression to use when he was annoyed. Dean’s influence, of course, and it amused Sam.

Sam skimmed a few news articles, catching up on items of national importance. Afterward, he moved to a local news site. A bank robbery, a heartwarming puppy story, a busted meth lab, and the Westboro Baptist Church.

Sam clicked on the link to the last story. Apparently, today the Westboro Baptist Church had picketed a nineteen-year-old soldier’s funeral in town. Sam bristled, vaguely aware of the end credits rolling on the TV.

“We did something like that once,” Gadreel stated.

Sam raised his eyes to him. “What? Your family protested at a veteran’s funeral?” He was surprised Gadreel had spoken up. He rarely mentioned anything about his family, and Sam didn’t push him. Perhaps it was something Gadreel did not wish to relive by discussing. Dean had once told him he didn’t know much about the Novaks himself, and he’d been with Cas for over five years. Whatever they had done, it had damaged Cas—Dean had mentioned that he periodically experienced crippling nightmares. Living with Gadreel, Sam had discovered that he had nightmares, too.

“No,” Gadreel answered. “A homosexual’s, when I was ten. He had been beaten to death for his sexual orientation, and we were there to proclaim the man’s evil, to preach about how much God despised sinners like him.” He shivered. “It was horrible.”

Sam felt sick to his stomach. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, wiping a tear from beneath Gadreel’s eyelids.

With a bitter grin, Gadreel confessed, “I used to think I was going to hell. Sometimes I still do.”

“Why would a just God care about sexual orientation?” Gadreel shrugged. “I do not think we are going to hell, Gadreel. Not for love.” _But if hell exists, you know who I think_ is _going? Your fucked up family._

“I know. But it can be difficult to overcome childhood instruction.”

“I hear ya, man.” He pressed his lips to Gadreel’s. Then he decided they needed some cheering up, so he found a couple of random YouTube videos to watch. He rested his head on Gadreel’s shoulder and pulled the blanket tightly around them. They wound up spending way too much time viewing humorous videos, giggling until they were in tears.


	12. T Minus 79 Days 13 Hours 12 Minutes

Sam mopped his brow with his wrist. It was only ten o’clock in the morning, but he was already sweating buckets. Overwhelmed, he gazed at the empty plot surrounded by a white picket fence. Why had he agreed to this?

With one glance at his beaming boyfriend, however, he remembered. That beautiful smile brought out Gadreel’s eyes. He seemed as excited as a child who had just been gifted a long-awaited toy, and Sam couldn’t help but feel charmed by his enthusiasm.

“Where do we begin?” Sam asked. He’d devoured several gardening books, but he still felt unsure about what to do. Such a subject was difficult to master by reading a book.

Gadreel gestured at two shovels leaning against the side of the house. “We need to dig first.” Sam suppressed a groan. “Thank you again, Sam,” Gadreel continued, looking sheepish. “I have dreamed of having my own garden since before I can remember, but my family has always told me it was a stupid idea. This means more to me than I can say.”

“You’re welcome,” Sam replied, feeling like a douche for his reluctant attitude. He would attempt to embody a more positive one, if only for Gadreel’s sake.

“We need to leave enough space between the plants so they can flourish,” Gadreel explained. “I’ve mapped out where everything goes.” He gestured toward the far side of the allotted garden space. “That is where we will put the flowers. There—” Gadreel pointed at a vast expanse in the middle. “—we will put the vegetables, and here—” Gadreel indicated a narrow area on the side closest to them. “—we will plant the shrub.” He turned to Sam. “What do you think?”

“Sounds good.”

They decided to plant as soon as they’d dug up a full row. After that, they would move on to the next row. It was exhausting work, but Sam enjoyed the quiet camaraderie he shared with Gadreel as they proceeded. Sam’s mouth grew increasingly dry, but Gadreel plodded on as if unaffected by the labor or the heat. Eventually, Sam threw his shovel to the ground, and Gadreel looked at him curiously.

Sam cleared his throat. “Can we take a break? I’m so damn thirsty.”

Gadreel gently placed his shovel next to Sam’s. “I was wondering when you would ask. I’ve been dying for some water.”

Huh. How could Gadreel make the task look so effortless, even when he needed a respite himself?

Sam stumbled inside, grabbed two water bottles, and carried them back to the garden plot. He tossed one of them to Gadreel, who, despite his usually sharp reflexes, failed to catch it. Maybe he really was more fatigued than Sam had thought. Before Sam could offer to do it, Gadreel retrieved the water bottle from the grass. He screwed the cap off and guzzled half the contents in one go. Sam gaped; he’d never seen Gadreel drink so fast.

“I am quite thirsty,” Gadreel said, blushing.

“Yeah, I can see that.”

Gadreel flicked his eyes to Sam’s unopened bottle. “I thought you were as well.”

“Uh. Yeah.” Sam twisted off the top and sipped the water. He suddenly realized his feet hurt. He shuffled toward the oak tree a few yards away and sat down, resting his back against the trunk. Gadreel joined him a minute later, arranging himself so that his side was flush against Sam’s. With the warm sensation of Gadreel’s body pressed against his, Sam felt a rush of sudden fondness. He could stay like this forever.

As he crumpled up his empty bottle, Gadreel asked, “Do you think our garden will be successful?”

“I don’t see why not. We’ve done enough research.”

“I hope so. I do enjoy this work, Sam.” Gadreel’s eyes sparkled with a revelation. “Perhaps if I am decent at it, I could go to school to study landscaping. What do you think?”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Sam replied, happy that Gadreel had discovered a career path he might find fulfilling. Working at the Gas ’n Sip was fine, but Gadreel didn’t want to do that forever. He was too ambitious, and like Sam, he believed that a job should be both useful and personally satisfying. And Gadreel definitely did not enjoy working at the Gas ’n Sip. It felt like such drudgery, he often complained. He hated it even more than Cas had, for Cas’s brand of naïve optimism had helped him find some value in the work. Gadreel, though, hated dealing with disgruntled customers and coworkers, and he hated being cooped indoors all day.

“I am glad. I think I might start looking up landscaping programs.”

“I’ll help.”

“Thanks.”

Sam took his and Gadreel’s empty water bottles to the recycling bin; then they picked up their shovels once again. By the end of the day, they both stank, their clothes covered in sweat and dirt, but the newly planted garden held a strangely magical air of promise. They’d planted only seeds, with the exception of the shrub, its stark green standing out beside the brown of the dirt and bright white of the fence.

“What now?” Sam asked.

“Hmm?” A peculiar gleam of mischief in his eye, Gadreel stalked toward Sam and smoothed a hand over Sam’s temple. When he removed it, Sam realized that Gadreel had intentionally wiped mud on his face.

“Oh, no, you didn’t,” Sam said. Gadreel smirked. “It’s on!” Sam wiped his own dirty hand over Gadreel’s lips.

“Sam, that is disgusting!” Gadreel protested.

“Mmmhmm. Should’ve thought of that sooner, mister.”

They slapped dirt on each other until Sam tumbled to the ground. Gadreel squatted down next to him and slapped mud into his hair. Sam groaned then snatched at some of the clumps, retaliating by rubbing the residue into Gadreel’s hair. When Sam tried to slather more into it, Gadreel caught his wrist and held it as he straddled Sam. With his free hand, he smothered dirt all over Sam’s cheeks. “Mercy!” Sam called.

“Are you sure?” Gadreel inquired.

“Yeah.”

“Have it your way. But first, I shall give you a taste of what you are missing out on.” He pecked Sam’s lips. When Sam attempted to extend the kiss even though dirt had trickled into his mouth, Gadreel stood up and declared, “You cried for mercy.”

“I take it back!” Sam gasped.

“That is not permissible.”

“Fuck, you’ve been taking too many cues from Dean.” Gadreel laughed and strolled toward the house. “Goddamn tease,” Sam muttered to himself, grinning.


	13. T Minus 34 Days 1 Hour 5 Minutes

Sam retrieved a bottle of ranch from the refrigerator and set it down next to the bowl of carrots he’d just picked from the garden. He couldn’t wait to see how they would taste. Even though Gadreel had tended to the garden mostly by himself, Sam felt a burst of pride at the notion of growing his own vegetables.

Gadreel’s eyes alit on the carrots as he traipsed into the kitchen. Sam picked one up and twirled it between two fingers.

“Will you not ruin your dinner?” Gadreel jibed.

“I’ll still have plenty of appetite, trust me,” Sam replied. He poured a dollop of ranch onto a saucer and gestured at the bowl. “Would you like to taste them first? They are the fruits of your labor, after all. Or vegetables.”

“Ha ha. You may eat the first one if you wish.”

Sam held out his carrot toward Gadreel. “No. I want you to try it.”

“All right.” Gadreel accepted the proffered vegetable and bit off the tip, a loud crunch resounding throughout the kitchen. “Mmm. It is delightful.”

Sam grinned and chuckled. “That’s great, man. You don’t wanna dip it in ranch?”

“Why sully the flavor of a perfectly good carrot?” Sam opened his mouth to explain, but Gadreel preempted him. “Ah, I understand. It is customary to dip carrots in ranch sauce,” he realized, his face thoughtful.

“Uh. Yeah.”

“Then I shall try it.” He dunked the bitten end into the ranch.

“Hey! I’m gonna eat that, too,” Sam objected, disgusted that Gadreel had tainted the dressing with spit.

“As if it matters,” Gadreel scoffed. He pressed ranch-tinged lips to Sam’s, insinuated a tongue into his mouth. All too soon, he pulled back. “Considering what we do in our spare time.”

Sam listed in Gadreel’s direction, a little unsteady on his feet. “Point taken.”

Gadreel tossed the last piece of the carrot into his mouth. “Will you not taste one now?” Gadreel asked as he chewed. Gross. He grinned widely, showing off every bit of the detritus in his mouth. Oh, man, Gadreel was definitely goading him on purpose. Sam pondered how to get back at him.

He picked up a carrot and dipped it in the ranch. He bit into it, and _wow_ , was that good. It had a more vibrant taste than the ones sold at the grocery store.

“Well, what do you think?” Gadreel asked.

“Delicious,” Sam mumbled. Gadreel studied his every reaction as he finished eating the carrot. His predilection for intense concentration would unsettle most people, but for Sam it stoked the fires of his heart.

Sam pretended to swallow the last morsel and pronounced, “You did a good job with these, Gadreel.”

“ _We_ did a good job.”

Sam shrugged. “Whatever.” He shuffled toward Gadreel, and their lips brushed. Sam prodded at the seam between Gadreel’s lips until they opened. As soon as they did, Sam used his tongue to shove the last of the half-chewed carrot into Gadreel’s mouth.

Gadreel coughed up the substance onto his hand. “Sam, that is exceedingly disgusting!” Sam chuckled. “I would expect your heathen brother to pull such a stunt, but never you.”

“I’m just full of surprises, aren’t I?” Sam quipped.

Gadreel grabbed a paper towel and wiped off his mouth and hands. “Speaking of surprises. I have some news.”

Sam crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I got a call from Chitaqua Nursery an hour ago.”

Gadreel had applied for a job at the nursery, and last week, he’d interviewed for the position. Sam examined Gadreel’s face, but he could glean nothing from his expression. Sometimes he wished Gadreel was easier to read.

“And?” Sam prompted him.

“And they have extended an offer of employment.”

“Congratulations!” Sam exclaimed. “What’d you say?!”

Gadreel cracked a smile. “I accepted, of course.”

“Now, _that’s_ what I’m talkin’ about!” Sam pumped a fist in the air. “You know what this means.”

“What?”

“No more Gas ’n Sip.”

“Thank heaven,” Gadreel sighed.

This was fantastic news. Now Gadreel could quit a job that was making him miserable. Plus, with a little experience in the field, he could find out whether the landscaping business actually suited him.

It was the first step toward a promising future.


	14. T Minus 38 Minutes

The doorbell rings, and Dean smiles to himself. He’d finished preparing the meal in the nick of time. Cas lets their guests inside, and they follow him into the kitchen.

“Something smells delicious,” Gadreel comments.

“Thanks,” Dean mumbles, face heating up at the praise. He remembers the first time Gadreel had eaten a dinner he’d cooked. The guy had scoffed at the idea that Dean could make anything edible, but with one bite, he’d been eating his words. Heh.

Dean gathers a few plates, eating utensils, and glasses, setting them on the counter beside the finished meal. “I figured we could eat outside since it’s such a nice day. What do you guys think?” After all, Sam and Gadreel are the ones celebrating their anniversary. He doesn’t want to force them to have supper outside if they abhor the idea.

Sam glances at Gadreel, who answers, “I like that plan.”

“Awesome.” Dean turns to Cas. “Can you help me carry some of this stuff outside?”

“Of course.” He places the dishes, silverware, and cups on a tray, along with a bottle of wine.

Sam reaches for the plate of rolls. “I can help, too.”

“Nah, Sam,” Dean objects. “I don’t want you and your boy toy lifting a finger.”

Gadreel tilts his head to the side, and God, sometimes Dean wonders how he can resemble Cas so much without looking anything like him. “I understand that to be an insulting term. I am no such thing.”

When would the dude grow a sense of humor? “Whatever.”

As Dean grabs the steak, Gadreel snatches up the plate filled with corn on the cob. “I will take these outside.”

Dean sighs. “Fuck. You’re just as stubborn as Sam.” Gadreel hums in agreement, a smug grin on his face.

Out on the back patio, Dean, Sam, and Gadreel place the food in the middle of the table while Cas arranges the dishes, eating utensils, and cups in front of each chair. He pours a healthy dose of wine into each of the glasses before settling into his seat. The others soon follow. Dean and Cas allow Sam and Gadreel to pile food onto their plates before they serve themselves.

“Don’t get too full,” Dean warns Sam and Gadreel. “There’s apple pie for dessert.”

Sam snorts. “I think you forgot whose anniversary it is.”

“Shut up. Apple pie is classic.”

“Says you.”

“Damn right says me. And my apple pie is friggin’ _awesome_.” Sam snorts.

“He does make a delectable apple pie,” Gadreel concedes.

“See? Your boyfriend agrees,” Dean gloats.

“Don’t encourage him, Gadreel,” Sam responds.

Gadreel swallows the food in his mouth and professes, “This steak is quite tasty, too.”

“Am I a great cook or what?”

“No one likes a braggart, Dean,” Cas chides. He digs his teeth into the corn on the cob, and Dean notices several pieces of corn stuck between his teeth. Dean chuckles, and Cas frowns.

Dean points at his own teeth. “Got a little somethin’ there, Cas.”

“Oh.” With a fork, Cas scrapes out the corn between his teeth.

After dinner, Dean returns inside and retrieves the pie as well as four forks and small plates. He cuts a generous slice for everyone, even Sam, who protests that he doesn’t need a large piece. However, just like everyone else, Sam devours every last crumb of his slice and compliments the pie. Afterward, Dean and Cas clear the table. When they return, Gadreel excuses himself, declaring he needs to visit the bathroom. Dean studies his retreating back, puzzled by the slither of nervousness he’d heard in Gadreel’s voice.

Dean pats Sam’s knee. “So, Sammy. How’s it feel making it to one year?”

“Amazing,” Sam gushes. “I don’t think I could be happier with anyone else. Sometimes I think that—” Sam flushes. Now _there_ is an interesting development.

“Sometimes you think what?” Dean goads him.

Sam shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”

Dean meets Cas’s eyes. They both realize Sam’s words signify anything but nothing. Dude is smitten, just like Dean and Cas even after five damn years.

Gadreel reappears and heads straight toward Sam, kneeling at his side. The setting sun shines in his newly slicked back hair, making Gadreel’s head shimmer.

Sam wrinkles his brow. “Gadreel, what—?”

“Be quiet, Sam,” Gadreel admonishes. Sam winces, taken aback at the vehemence in Gadreel’s tone. “I apologize. I did not mean to be rude. But—” Gadreel emits a giddy huff and fans his face. “I am just a little nervous.”

“Nervous? Why—?” Gadreel glares at him, and Sam slams his mouth shut. Jeez, how can Sam be so thick? Dean and Cas beam at each other. This is going to be _priceless_.

Gadreel clears his throat. “Beloved. This last year has been the most transcendent one of my life. While I am glad that I no longer have to contend with the toxic environment of the Novak Family, that is not the primary reason I am so happy.

“It is you, Sam. My Sam, my beloved. I never thought I would find someone who completes me as well as you do. You have made my life most wondrous.”

He grasps Sam’s hand and presses a reverent kiss to the knuckles. “And so. I would be honored if you rendered me the luckiest man in the world.” He pulls a small wooden box out of the front pocket of his khakis and extends his arm toward Sam. With his free hand, he pries the box open, revealing a polished silver band. “Will you marry me?”

Sam gawks at him as tears leak from his eyes. “Yes, babe. Yes!”

“Yes?”

“Yes!” Sam repeats with a disbelieving laugh.

Their lips crash into each other. Dean sees a distinct amount of tongue, they’re totally feeling up each other’s shoulder and back muscles, and yeah, Dean _definitely_ does not need to see that—

“Get a room!” Dean shouts.

Sam pulls back reluctantly, and with a twinkling smile, replies, “How about we take your guest bedroom?”

Dean waves a dismissive hand at the house. “Whatever. Just get outta here!”

Sam and Gadreel stand up, arms flung around each other’s shoulders. Just as they are about to open the porch door, Dean calls, “And Sammy?”

Sam eyes Dean over his shoulder. “Yes?”

“Congratulations. You, too, Gadreel.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Gadreel answers.

“I would like to offer my congratulations as well,” Cas adds.

“Thanks. To both of you,” Sam responds.

Once Sam and Gadreel are safely inside, Dean studies the wedding band on his own finger. He observes Cas doing the same.

“Do you remember when you proposed?” Cas asks.

“’Course.” They’d been camping at a lake. Dean had popped the question on the dock, and klutz that he is, he’d somehow fallen backward into the water. Cas had saved him—and the ring. Dean had been sure his idiotic display would repel Cas, but Cas had said yes anyway.

Cas smiled to himself. “You were so nervous. It was adorable. I knew then . . . you would always be the only one for me.”

“Really?” Such a disastrous proposal would probably give most people second thoughts.

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” They remain silent for a few minutes, until Dean inquires, “So, why do you think Gadreel wanted to propose in front of us?”

“It is as you said earlier. We introduced them to each other. It is a gesture of gratitude.”

“We done good getting those two together, huh?”

“ _I_ done good,” Cas corrected.

“Tryin’ to take all the credit? Typical.”

“You were against it at first, remember?”

“But I came around.”

“I still am not sure whether you deserve any credit.”

“Smartass.” Cas yelped in surprise as Dean bounded into his lap. “C’mere.” He brushed his lips across Cas’s. “I love you. Even if you are a smartass.”

Cas’s eyelashes fluttered. “I love you, too.” He deepened the kiss.

Dean didn’t know what Sam and his fiancée were up to in the guest bedroom (actually, he had a pretty good idea), but whatever it was, Dean was sure he and Cas could give them a run for their money.

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the original artwork: 
> 
> My tumblr can be found [here](http://angelofthemoor.tumblr.com/).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Art] The Last Piece of the Puzzle](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3139517) by [Nonexistenz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonexistenz/pseuds/Nonexistenz)




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